


The Ranch

by MissAnonWrites



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Cowboy!Tom, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fantasy, Plot Twist, Romance, au tom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2783054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnonWrites/pseuds/MissAnonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OC needs a break from her hectic job and life in London. Trots off to work as a volunteer on a horse riding ranch in Wyoming, owned by English cowboy Tom Hiddleston...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

  
London. Autumn. I’m supposed to be happy. Crunchy brown leaves and snuggling in warm cafes sipping hot chocolate and eating warmed muffins.

The online world would make you think that. I’ve seen the Instagram images.

But that’s simply not my reality, as I fake-casually totter across the tube carriage to swap seats.

The man I had been sitting next to was stinking the place up with his McDonalds, adding to my damp soggy irritation.

The sunny morning had conned me into leaving my umbrella at home, which I was now bitterly regretting.

My work day had been a carousel of pernickety clients, a heavier workload than usual due to a colleague’s illness, and Friday’s deadlines brought forward to today which meant …

…which meant I was ready to snap.

I hustled off the train and soon emerged back out into the evening’s semi-darkness (it’s only seven o’clock, for Christ’s sake!) and continual downpour.

My black heels clatter along the pavement as I run home. I’m dying to kick them off. I’d take them off and carry them with me as I run if I could.

Yet you can never be too sure in London - glass shards from broken bottles, vom or dog poo… or worse…

I crash through the front door to my shared house, and drag my arse upstairs to my room.

_______________________________

_Holidays…_

I restlessly tap my fingers on the edge of my laptop.

It was only a few months ago that it was summer. Yet it feels like it’s been gloomy forever.

I’d stayed in London over summer to make the most of the sunshine - London rocks when the sun’s out. People dress a little less stuffily, everyone seems happier. Though don’t get me started on the tourists…

So now - with the gloom and dark evenings and everyone wearing grey - now is the perfect time to get away.

Away from the UK.

Even away from Europe.

No… not a party trip… 

Not backpacking…

Not another city….

Something different…

I start to casually browse volunteering abroad. It’s something I did years ago as a recent graduate - jumped on the gap year bandwagon and taught English abroad. That’s not quite what I want now…. But I want to do something kinda useful…

I find a site for ‘working’ breaks where you ‘work’ part-time somewhere in exchange for board and rent. There’s lots of adverts from people looking for part-time nannies or gardeners. Not quite for me.

I stumble on an ad from someone who wants help with looking after horses! I’ve only ridden a horse once, when I was 8, at a summer camp, but what the heck. I click to find out more.

_The Ranch, Wyoming, USA_

_We offer ‘cowboy’ experiences to holiday makers, including looking after them at our guest house._

_We’re looking for some help looking after the horses and saddles/tack while our regular stable hand is on holiday._

I scroll down to see images of the horses - sandy and brown coloured with wild manes and large brown leather saddles. There‘s also some images of happy tourists on horseback practicing lassoing, and sitting around a campfire.

The Ranch has two cooks, a permanent housekeeper, and another volunteer who also works with the horses.

_When not helping out, you’ll have free time to explore the local towns, or simply hang out on The Ranch and enjoy the scenery._

_If you are interested, please drop us a message with a little info about yourself, and Tom will get back to you._

This looks cool.

Couldn’t hurt to find out more information.

I type a response message, using the subject line ‘Stressed city worker wants to live out cowgirl fantasy!’, close my laptop, and muse about the Wild Wild West as I get ready for bed.  
____________________________

Over the next few days I had a succession of email exchanges with Tom, the owner of The Ranch. He sent through a link to The Ranch‘s website, which included more images as well as testimonials from guests. It sounded like a great place. Tom seemed pretty keen to have me on board too, and it was only three weeks later that I found myself fastening my seat-belt with sweaty palms as my plane trundled onto the Heathrow runway.  
_________________________

“Alice!”

My jaw drops. “Tom?”

A tall, tan, leanly muscular guy in a white t shirt, dark jeans and cowboy boots calls out to me at the airport exit, holding a cardboard sign with my name on it. On closer inspection I see he’s drawn a horse-shoe in the corner too.

“Hi! Great to meet you,” he extends a bronzed arm out to me, and grips my hand in his firmly. He sounds British, which is odd, as I was expecting something a little more… John Wayne?

Holding eye-contact is proving difficult - his eyes are clear blue and very earnest. I notice black sunglasses perched atop of his sun-kissed unruly dark blond curls.

“Lovely to meet you, too!” I bluster, and he reaches down to take my luggage.

“Oh, thanks,” I fiddle with my hands, not used to an almost-stranger being so chivalrous.

“No problem, ma’am,” he grins. “My truck’s just outside. Let’s get you to the Ranch so you can freshen up and settle in. I know that red-eye flights can be hellish.”

I nod, thinking that the flight hadn’t been too bad - only my nerves and excitement had been the main problem.  
____________________________

I lean my head against the window frame as the fields roll by. The scent of soil and dried grass wafts past me. It’s evening, and I can feel myself finally starting to relax.

Tom is happily manoeuvring his robust pick up truck along winding roads, humming occasionally to himself.

“How’s London?”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise, so caught up in the sights and smells of a new place that I’d almost forgotten about where I’d been living.

“It’s…,”

He tilts his head to look at me, and arches an eyebrow above the rim of his sunglasses.

I giggle nervously and look at my hands. “It’s smelly and smoggy and busy and all of that stuff.”

“They wouldn’t hire you for the Tourist Board, would they,” Tom smiles, biting his lip.

“Where are you from, originally?”

Tom nods. “Yep, I’m from Lahn-dahn too.”

“Really?”

He nods again. “Mm-hm.”

“What made you leave?”

He turns his head again to face me, that eyebrow arching again. “Do you really need to ask?”

I chuckle, then watch as he brings the truck slowly around a tight corner , nearby overhanging tree branches scraping across the top of the vehicle.

Once we’re on a straighter, wider road, Tom lets the truck cruise along.  
“I lived there for a long time. Most of my adult life, actually, then moved out here five years ago.”

He hits the indicator and we make a left.

“I’d got to a point where I felt… like I needed a new adventure. This had always been a childhood dream - to be a cowboy,” he chuckles. “I took a chance, and… here we are.”

We drive down a long hedge-lined gravel road that leads to a large wooden lodge. It’s 9pm, and the building is bathed in dark blue light from the sky. I yawn loudly, and Tom tuts under his breath. “Let’s get you inside, sleepy head.”  
___________________________

Tom introduced me to the other staff members, whose names went straight through one ear and out the other, and then showed me to my room.

It was rustic and cosy, with a wonderful view across the fields. The air was fresh and strangely comforting.

Tom set my bags down just inside the doorway.

“Bathroom’s directly across the hall. Help yourself to any food from the kitchen - it’s a free for all. You don’t have any work lined up for tomorrow so you can spend the day getting settled in…”

I cover my mouth with my hands as another ginormous yawn erupts. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, and rub my eyes.

Tom lingers at the door for a moment, then smiles softly.

“Get to bed.” He starts to go, then turns back and adds, “I hope you sleep well and enjoy your stay here.”

He saunters down the hallway, and I plop down on the kingsize bed, happy to sleep in my clothes if need be.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

 

_Where the hell am I?!_

  
I momentarily freak out and feel a bit sick until my brain decides to switch on and I remember: this isn’t a dream, I’m actually in a wooden lodge on a cowboy ranch.

Sunlight pours through the faded flowery curtains across the window, and as I move about, wanting to rest some more, I realise I’m still in my clothes.

A basic black sweater, vest top, and my FrenchConnection jeans. I’d rolled make-up all over the ivory-coloured pillows.

I roll up to sitting with a groan, and haul my jumper off, then my jeans. I then scramble back to bed, this time  _under_  the covers, and happily huff to myself as my eyes close.

No office for me today.  
_____________________

I make it downstairs around midday. Which must be the equivalent of 6pm for country-folk, right? They’re usually up at the crack of dawn to milk cows, or plant seeds, or… whatever it is they do.

Thankfully no-one batters an eyelid as I sheepishly schlep into the kitchen. One of the cooks is preparing vegetables, and the house keeper is unloading food into the pantry.

The cook shows me where the cereal is kept, and I help myself to a bowl. I take it out with me onto the porch, where I sit on a wicker chair.

It’s so bloody peaceful.

All I can hear are the occasional clatters and chatter coming from the kitchen, otherwise it’s just the breeze.

Tom’s truck is parked where he left it last night, and there’s no sign of him.

I sit back in the chair and stretch my legs out in front of me.

I wonder if he’s out riding a horse? Or inside the building somewhere.

Maybe he slept in too, and he’s not yet awake. Or he could be in the shower…

_Stop it_

First day here and I can’t be having any of  _those_  thoughts about the guv’nor.  
________________________

Breakfast finished, I decide to explore the grounds. I throw on the hiking boots I’d packed and head across to the stables to the left of the main building. I can hear a low thumping sound as I approach, and smell the thick scent of fresh straw.

I recognise the stable hand from last night’s brief introduction, a lanky student-type called Jimmy who sports a bushy black beard and has Beatles song lyrics tattooed along the inside of his arm. He seems quite shy, yet shows me around the stables, introducing me to the horses and showing me where everything is kept. He tells me he’s a student at the local university, and uses this volunteer work as a way to get free digs as well as have something to add to his CV.

He also tells me he’ll be around to help and remind me where everything is. I thank him, and after petting a few of the horses, head back out into the warm sunlight.

And it’s comfortably warm, thank God! Not like the scorching heat waves we had had earlier in London that turned your skin red after fifteen minutes.

I walk around to the two large exercise paddocks, lined with white painted fencing, and exhale a long contended smile. It’s going to be a fun two weeks (well, technically ten days) living a life that is so far removed from my regular one.

I hear someone whistling quietly, and turn to see Tom walking up the gravel driveway, his head bowed slightly, concentrating as he walks, carrying a large gym bag in one hand that’s slung over his shoulder. A Blue Heeler dog trots alongside him.

I smile, glad to see him, yet as he gets closer I notice my mouth going dry.

His hair is damp, glistening in the light. He’s wearing a check shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, faded jeans, and cowboy boots. Morning shade gives definition to his jaw.

“Hey there, little darlin’,” he mumbles in an American accent as he comes closer, and I giggle.

“Hey yourself, cowboy. Who’s this?”

I crouch down to pet the dog’s head, scratching it behind the ear. It happily closes its eyes for a moment.

“This is Sheba. What mischief have you been up to?” he asks good-naturedly, and adjusts the gym bag at his shoulder.

“Oh, I was just having a look around, getting acquainted with the place. Making sure I know where everything is.” I gesture back at the stables. “I met Jimmy and he talked me through the stables.”

Tom smiles. “Good. I take it you slept alright?”

I stand up straight and notice little lines crinkle at the corners of his eyes as he waits for me to answer. I can’t stop looking at his damp curls.

Doubt creeps into his eyes as he sees me stalling.

“Oh! Yes, yes like a log. It’s so peaceful here! I can’t believe how long I slept.”

“Still a bit jet-lagged?” He shifts on his feet, and looks me over with concern.

“No, no I’m okay I think. Just… um… adjusting to being here. It’s not London.”

“That it certainly isn’t, cowgirl,” he grins and starts walking towards the main building. He then stops, and turns back to me. “Seeing as you’re at a loose end, and we won’t be having any guests arrive ‘til tonight, how about we get you on a horse?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

“Easy, buddy. Easy,” Tom softly coos as the large horse shifts beneath me while I grapple with the reins. He offers me a hand to help me, and the tan leather saddle squeaks a little as I haul myself off, one foot landing on the pebble-flecked ground.

“How was that?” Tom glances at me, as he crouches a little to help take my other foot out of the stirrup.

I smooth a strand of wind-swept hair away from my face and grin. “Really really cool. I feel giddy.”

Tom sets my foot down and stands tall, adjusting the rim of his cowboy hat.

“Bonnie was really good today,” he pats the horse’s neck affectionately, “weren’t you girl?”

I nod. The hour-long walk (with a small bout of gentle cantering) around the local fields had been a wonderful way to ease me back into being on a horse. Tom had ridden at my side, and sometimes in front where necessary, telling folklore stories about the area. He’d also taken me to a small lake, surrounded by overhanging trees - so utterly gorgeous, like a natural private pool - and confided that he liked to come here for morning swims.

Which I really wish he hadn’t had told me, as my mind wandered to images of his lean, muscular body cutting through the water, droplets dripping down from his eyelashes onto his lips…

“How are you feeling?”

I stifle a yelp and take a step back, Tom’s voice breaking my inappropriate thoughts. My head snaps to look at him.

The brim of his hat casts a shadow across his eyes, the light catching the tip of his nose and the strawberry-blond bristles of his thin beard. He has a damn wooden toothpick sticking out of the corner of his mouth, and I notice him use his tongue darting to roll it along his teeth.

I look away.

“I’m, yeah I’m great,” I swallow. “I feel a bit…,” I start to rub my thighs then stop, awkwardly. “I think I sat on the horse for too long.”

Tom tilts his head back and laughs good-naturedly. “Not to worry, you’ll get used to it soon enough. How about you pop inside and have a bath? Nothing soothes aching muscles more.”

Before I had time to blurt out ‘come join me’, Jimmy had arrived to take Tom’s horse and Bonnie back to the stables. Tom began to head towards the main building, and I followed.

“It is normally lunch time now for us here. With your late breakfast I’m not sure if you’re ready to eat?”

“Um…,” I try to think. It would be nice to eat lunch with Tom (and, er, the others), as well as probably being the polite thing to do. However a bath sounded wonderful and I wasn’t starving….

“… maybe after your soak, eh?” He tilted his head to look at me sideways and winked.

I simply nodded mutely in response and followed him through the building doorway, patting Sheba the dog on the head as she greeted me in the hallway, before heading upstairs.  
_______________________________________

A bath is a wonderful thing at any time. However, when your muscles ache and your lungs are full of fresh country air, a bath becomes elevated to something akin to a holy experience.

I couldn’t have been happier.

The bathroom had a deep cast iron bath, elevated on round, claw-like feet. A large white porcelain milk pail sat next to the bath, just in case anyone wanted to scoop water up in it and pour it over themselves while bathing.

I’d found some homemade lavender bath oil in the old wooden cabinet by the sink, along with a rubber duckie.

Thinking no-one would be able to see me (since the window in the bathroom looked over fields and not the rest of the Ranch), I’d left the curtains open, and had blissful views across the landscape.

All I needed was the latest copy of Elle and I could have stayed there all afternoon.

As it was, my fingertips and toes were getting crinkly, and I felt a sudden chill as my body realised the water temperature had dropped. I sighed. Oh well, at least I got a decent 40 minutes worth.

I hauled myself out, got wrapped up in soft white towels and scooped up my horse-riding clothes. I shuffled towards the door, unlocked it, and peeked out into the hallway.

Coast clear, I padded across to my room and quickly sneaked inside, dropping my clothes to the floor with a heavy bump.

I noticed the smell of… sandwiches?

“Oh!” Tom held his hand to his mouth, a crumb flying out to the side and dropping to the floor.

I squeaked and clutched the towels closer round my torso and hips. The towels covered me like a strapless ankle-length fuzzy white gown. Strangely, having my shoulders and collar bones bare, wet, with an oily sheen on them, along with not wearing any pants under the towels, made me feel quite exposed.

Tom stood by the cupboard across from my bed, a tray with a plate of sandwiches, a glass, and a pitcher of lemonade on it. He bowed his head, looking at the floor.

“I… I’m sorry, I… I was about to leave… I came to deliver you some food…. I didn’t expect to see you… I thought you were still in the bath…sorry,”

My hands relax around the towels, and I feel myself calming.

“That’s okay, I’m just surprised, that’s all,” I nod. I try to diffuse the awkwardness, if that’s possible. “And it looks like you came to  _eat_  my food, too?”

He quickly looks up at me, eyes wide. I comically raise an eyebrow at him.

He takes a couple of steps towards me, wiping his palms across his jean-clad thighs. “No! Well…. Okay, you got me there.” He shrugs sheepishly. “I hope you’re not too cross with me?”

I try to look angry at him, but it’s very hard to. Not when he carefully takes off his hat, holds it with both hands at his chest, and nudges the floor with the toe of his boot.

And god damn those big blue eyes….

“Okay, fine, forgiven,” I bluster, trying to concentrate on what I should actually be doing next. Ah! Yes, putting some bloody clothes on and running a brush through my hair.

I hear him chuckle softly as he walks to the door.

“Hey,” I turn to him, and he hovers in the doorway, relaxing against the doorframe with an easy smile. “Thanks for bringing me lunch. That’s really sweet.“

He gives me a quick salute and takes a couple of steps backwards, eyes fixed on me, before heading out down the hallway. I close the door once he’s gone and swoon a little. 

_____________________________________

After I had readied myself, and polished off the food, it was all hands on deck. The new guests would be arriving anytime after 5pm, and whilst technically the other members of staff could handle the preparations, I wanted to join in and feel part of the team.

After getting under the feet of the cook, I decided helping Jimmy in the stables might be a better place for me to be. We groomed the horses and mucked out, while listening to the radio. Time passed fairly quickly, and soon we were interrupted as a group of holiday makers, led by Tom, approached.

We were introduced to an assortment of people whose names I would likely forget - a family with two children from New York, a young couple, a couple of solo travelers, and three students from Italy - all here for the cowboy experience. They seemed amiable enough, however they all kind of faded into a strange blur of multi-coloured blobs as I couldn’t help but focus on Tom enthusiastically telling them about how he set up the Ranch, about his love for the countryside, and reassuring them that all the horses here have good temperaments.

“And to the left we have our paddocks…,” Tom gestures and starts to guide them out. Me and Jimmy nod to the holiday makers as they go, and Jimmy starts sweeping up stray hay. I follow suit.

Twenty minutes later, Tom pokes his head round the stables door.

“All clear.”

Jimmy giggles, and rests his broom against the wall.

Tom walks in and looks at me. “I told them to get settled in, freshen up, hang out in the living area before dinner at 7pm. You’re welcome to join them, if you want. Or you can eat alone, if you prefer.”

Jimmy rubs his palms together and starts picking flakes of dirt from his hands, before heading out. He gives Tom a small nod as he passes him.  
I kind of don’t know what to do. I guess I could be sociable and meet some new people… but maybe that’s not the done thing? Do staff eat alone? Is that what Jimmy does?

“What do… what does Jimmy and everyone do?”

Tom exhales loudly and raises his eyebrows as he ponders. “I think Jimmy eats alone. The cooks and housekeeper eat once the guests have cleared out of the dining area. Our previous volunteer ate with them. It’s completely up to you.”

I nod. I kind of wondered where he ate, but wouldn’t want to ask.

“Well, it’s a lovely night. I fancy eating outside. Is that okay… like, are there tonnes of bugs and mosquitoes out here?”

Tom grins. “No, you’ll be fine. I like to dine al fresco too.”

There’s an uncomfortable twinge in the air. I’m not sure if he’s suggesting we eat together or…

“Feel free to use one of the rocking chairs on the porch, if our new guests haven’t nabbed them yet,” he smiles, and potters out.  
_________________________________

I could get used to this place.

I’d grabbed a cable knit blanket that I’d found in the bottom drawer of the cupboard in my room, and was snug in the rocking chair, sipping on a cold can of cherry cola. Inside, I could hear the TV on in the living area, with the sounds of kids exclaiming and adults conversing.

The air was cool, and there was a breeze, yet it felt good against my face. Nearby I heard an owl hooting, and could make out the sounds of the horses moving and snorting inside the stables.

I felt stuffed after a massive helping of lasagne, and the cola bubbles were sure to give me wind in the night, however I didn’t care. I was looking out across beautiful countryside, with a deep dark blue sky overhead brimming with stars. Despite the noises coming from indoors, it felt so peaceful.

I heard the feint sound of a door knocking against its frame, then footsteps getting closer.

“Mind if I join you out here?” Tom stops a few feet away from me, eying me carefully.

“No, of course…,” I gesture to the empty wicker chair nearby, which he drags across the wooden porch floor to position next to mine. I snuggle under my blanket, feeling a teeny bit excited.

He’s now wearing a beaten-up looking dark brown leather jacket, and as he settles into the chair, elbows propped on the arm rests, the scent of his jacket wafts across to me, a heady mixture of him, the Ranch, and leather.

He stretches his legs out in front of him, and nudges my slipper-sock-covered foot with his boot. “Settling in okay?”

I smile. “Yes, thanks to you and everyone else. You’ve made me feel very welcome.”

“Good,” he muses, and nods. “It’s good to have you here.”

I shift under the blanket. “Thanks, though I don’t feel I’ve really earnt my keep yet.”

He laughs softly. “Just wait til tomorrow. They’ll be having their first excursion in the morning, which I’ll need you to help with, as well as taking care of the horses throughout the day. But you’ll have the afternoon free of course.”

“What do the guests do in the afternoon?”

He begins lightly tugging at tufts of his beard with his long fingers, which I find quite distracting as he speaks.

“I’ll be teaching them the basics of lassoing, then we give them a couple of hours to potter about, rest, whatever they like until dinner.”

“You do the lasso?”

He laughs. “It would be a pretty poor deal for them if they go to a cowboy experience without having a go at hurling a rope over a fake bull’s head.”

I grin. “I might have to tag along too.”

“We’ll make a cowgirl out of you yet,” he winks, and leans his head back against the back of the chair, adjusting his hat.

We sit in amiable silence, my eyes roving across the wilderness, the sky, the long legs sprawled out next to me. I suddenly start to wonder if Tom’s single or in fact has a girlfriend. Or wife! I’d presumed him to be single, but that was just my hopeful heart. 

“Are you feeling London seep out of you yet?” Tom’s voice breaks the quiet, and I rock a little on the chair, thinking aloud.

“Probably too soon to say. I feel less rushy, though. It’s nice to not be checking my calendar five times an hour.”

He chuckles. “I do in fact have a basic schedule for you, if that makes you feel more at home?”

I peek at him, doubting.

“6am, feed horses, 8.30am morning trek, 12pm clean stables….”

“Ugh….” I groan, my mind already aching from hearing all these times and tasks…

“…or I can just tell you where you need to be and when, when you need to know.”

“Much better,” I smile. The word ‘schedule’ had almost brought me out in a rash.

“I think we are going to have a very good working relationship,” Tom closes his eyes, and hums. “You should get to bed soon though. You’ll need a good night’s rest before I wake you up at 5.30."


	4. Chapter 4

He wasn’t kidding.

He literally came and woke me up.

It started with a polite, persistent knocking at the door until I called out a tired ‘yeeeeah?”

“Are you decent?”

I frowned. “Yeeeah?”

“Ok. I’m coming in.”

The bedroom door handle clanked down and the door opened, Tom’s tall frame bustling through the doorway with a tray laden with what looked like a full English breakfast and a pot of tea.

“What’s this?” I blearily sat up, rubbing my hands down my face.

“Breakfast in bed,” Tom said matter-of-factly, and set the tray on the small bedside cabinet before half-opening the curtains to let a little early morning light in.

“Do you do this for all your volunteers?” I yawn and stretch, too tired to attempt any veneer of smooth professionalism in front of my temporary ‘boss’.

“Not always…,” he murmurs, and I reach towards the tea.

“What time is it?”

“It is…,” he makes a show of rolling up his denim shirt sleeve and pointing at his tan leather strap wind-up watch, “five-thirty-three in the morning. If we had a rooster, it would certainly be crowing,”

I huff. Better drink this tea quick if I’m to wake up…

“Do you get up this early every day?” I mutter after sipping the hot sweet tea, momentarily reminiscing over my regular London weekday mornings where I got up at 7.15.

“We do things differently, round these parts,” he quips, and I almost want to shoo him out of my room for being so perky at this hour.

I make a start on the scrambled eggs, while Tom strides out of my room, no doubt off to give morning calls to the rest of the staff.

I shake my head thinking about him, and gear myself up for what could be a long morning.  
_____________________________________

With Jimmy’s help, I’d managed to groggily feed the horses and take them out to the paddocks for some gentle pottering to warm them up for the trek. While the guests were finishing up their breakfasts at the more leisurely time of 8am, I sat with Tom in his small Ranch office as he gave me my instructions.

“It won’t be anything tricky, as this is their first day here and some of them haven’t ridden before,” he explains as he stands by an antique map of the area, which hangs on the wall.

“We’ll be taking a similar route to the one we rode yesterday, except we’ll be taking in more of the forest this time,” I follow the tip of his long finger as it brushes slowly over the map, tracing the path of our journey. I can’t focus on anything that’s actually on the map; I can’t help but stare at the curve of his nail, and the way his finger seems to float along. I wonder what it would feel like to have his finger trace along my shoulder

“…And as you can see, that’s why I wanted you to come along this morning,” he finishes his sentence and turns to look at me with a smile.  
I swallow. I don’t think I heard the last two sentences he said. So I just nod and smile back.

He clasp his hands together and crosses the small space to his desk, grabbing a print out from the printer which has the guests names typed out on it. He hands it to me.

“You don’t need to know their names, I just thought it might help.”

“Thanks,” I reply as I glance over a motley collection of names that I don’t think I have a hope of remembering, and fold the paper up to slip into my jeans pocket.

Tom picks up tan leather gloves from his desk and wriggles his hands into them, one at a time, flexing his fingers once they are snugly inside. With his rolled up shirt sleeves, his forearms look amazing, and I look away as I feel a blush creep up my neck.

He tugs on the sleeve of my jumper and I look up. “Let’s go get ‘em, cowgirl.”  
_____________________________________________

The ride was fine. Turns out Tom wanted me to ride at the back, just to make sure none of the kids wandered off on their horses alone or got lost. The more competent riders stayed at the front with Tom, and I found myself chatting with some of the students who’d never ridden before.

When we got back, me and Jimmy took all the tack off the horses then fed them. Soon it was lunchtime, and I decided to join the guests in the dining room as I felt like I ‘knew’ them a little better after our morning ride.   
In the afternoon I had planned on drawing some sketches and jotting down some memories in the journal I had specifically bought for this trip. I sat on the edge of my bed, looking out the window where I could see Tom setting up a few dummy bulls in the field beyond the paddocks.

That man was such a distraction.

I couldn’t help but watch his body move as he set up.

I started to feel a little light headed, and soon enough I fell asleep.  
____________________________________________

I awoke with a start, to a loud bang at my door.

“Cowgirl? Are you in there?” Tom’s voice called out with worry.

I shifted groggily on the bed, fully dressed above the covers. My journal had dropped off the bed and landed on the floor half-open, a page creased and bent.

And oh - the room was kinda dark.

“Yeah I’m here,” I groaned, and carefully sat up. I noticed the muffled sounds of people moving about downstairs.

“Ah, I was worried when you weren‘t answering your door. Can I come in?” There was a pause. “It’s Tom.”

I dragged myself up to standing and opened the door.

He was in his usual attire - check shirt, jeans, boots and hat, with his leather jacket on and those tan gloves, holding a thick folded red blanket in his arms.

“Are you alright or… OH, I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

A yawn catches me off guard and I quickly raise a hand to cover my mouth.

Tom bites his lip. “I’m sorry. We’re all about to head out to the woods for a campfire and s’mores. I wondered if you wanted to join us?”

His voice sounded so sweetly hopeful it was hard to say no.

“Although if you’d rather sleep, I’d understand of course,” he frowns, his shoulders sagging lightly. ”Sorry.”

“No, no,” I shake my head and turn back into my room to find my shoes and jacket. “I’ll be fine. Christ, what time is it?”

Tom leans against the doorway. “Time to sing Kumbaya and eat food off the ends of sticks. I brought you a blanket.”

“Thanks,” a mumble as I quickly drag a brush through my hair and whip my hair back into a sloppy ponytail. As I start to walk towards the doorway, I have a thought.

“Is my face all covered in lines from where I’ve been sleeping?” I frown, rubbing at my cheeks with my fingertips. “And - God! - mascara must be everywhere…,”

I turn to go to the little dresser where my make up bag sits, yet I feel a strong gloved hand tug at mine, and Tom stops me.

Surprised, I look at him, and he steps closer to me, his hand reaching up to hold my jaw between his thumb and index finger. Frowning, I watch as he tilts my head a little, his eyes carefully inspecting my face.

“No,” he murmurs, “no mascara there.” He leans his face down closer to mine, and dramatically squinting, peers at my lips. “No, no mascara there.”

I start giggling.

“I wonder about over here…,” he comes closer still, so that his nose is almost side by side with mine, and stares at my right eye. I keep blinking, not sure where to look, wanting to laugh, and also wanting to melt into his gaze.

“No, I think we’re all clear there too. No mascara on the eyeball, there.”  
He drops his hand from my chin, and steps back, looking down briefly as he adjusts the blanket under his arm.

“You’re good to go,” he gestures towards the bedroom doorway and raises an eyebrow. “Shall we?”


	5. Chapter 5

 

### 

TOM’S POV

I couldn’t help myself.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I led her down the stairs to the awaiting guests in the lobby.

Any excuse, really, to get close to her.

God, I hope I haven’t spooked her!

I clock eyes with Jimmy who is loitering near the door, guitar in hand, and give him a short nod. On cue, he opens the large wooden front door and starts guiding everyone outside.

“After you,” I gesture to Cowgirl, and she nods gently, looking down as she follows the others out. I hope that she’s blushing.

  
___________________

“Bee… eyee… enngee oh! Bee… Eyee… nngee oh…”

I’d managed to drum up some singers from my international campfire audience to join in during the chorus. Diagonally across from me, Cowgirl smiles and sings along, her face flushed and glowing amber from the fire light.

I strum the last chord, and as the song ends the night air is filled with murmurs and laughs in foreign tongues. A couple are trying to practice some of the words they picked up from the song, passionately mis-correcting each other.

I set the guitar down to one side, get up from my log, and wander around casually to crouch behind Cowgirl.

She notices me as soon as I approach, and turns to face me.

“How does a city girl like you know the words to ‘Bingo Was His Name-O’?” I squint at her.

She raises an eyebrow. “I was in the Girl Guides, don’t you know.”

“Really?” I chuckle. There’s much more to her than meets the eye. Ever since she contacted me about volunteering here - a lone girl from the Big Smoke - I wanted to find out more about what makes her tick, and what kind of spirit lay beneath her… umm…

She clears her throat, and I raise my gaze from her chest. “Sorry…,” I bluster. Christ, she saw me staring at her boobs…

But my eyes meet hers, and they sparkle with fun, and kindness.

“Yep, I know my way around a compass, and I can pitch a tent.” She cocks her head to one side, and I can’t tell if she’s flirting or not.

I swallow, my mouth feeling a little dry.

“Well,” I wet my lips with my tongue, “that’s good to know.”

“Where you ever a boy scout?”

I laugh. “No, although I did do the Duke of Edinburgh Award at school. But while setting up this place I read up on all things outdoors. And got myself a campfire song book.”

“Do you want to sit? I could shuffle along…” She starts to fidget on the log, and I gently lay a hand on her back.

“No, it’s fine. I think I shall kneel here,” I shift to my knees and kneel behind her, my face perilously close to hers as I change positions.

“Ever wondered what it would be like to have four arms?” I murmur.

“Forearms?”

“Go get that marshmallow bag and a couple of sticks for me,” I nod in the direction of the bag and some twigs lying on the floor by her feet. She leans down to get them, and as she sits back up I poke my arms between her armpits, trying desperately not to push my torso against her back.

She laughs, then groans. I can almost envision an eye roll. “Very good.”

“Now let’s see if we can get one of these marshmallows on a stick, shall we?” I say quietly by her ear.

I peek over her shoulder to help, as I reach my hand over to the marshmallow bag she’s holding. I take a gooey sweet out.

“Then you angle you hand this way so I can get it on the stick…,” I have to twist my wrist a little bit but we manage to get the marshmallow on the end of a stick she’s holding.

“Then we can get this thing toasted…,” she leans forward, reaching the twig out to get the marshmallow in the fire. I shift my body forward in sync, and reach out my arm too so that my hand holds hers on the stick.

“You’re a pest,” she mumbles, as my other hand scrabbles about to try and get another marshmallow out of the bag in her lap.

“Four arms are better than two though, no?” I cautiously rest my head on her shoulder, not sure if she’ll veer away from me.

Thankfully, she doesn’t. Instead, she swats my hand away from the bag with her free hand, then takes a marshmallow out herself and raises it to my lips for me to eat.

“I’m having the melty one in the fire,” she declares.  
______________________________________________

Jimmy had been giving me the side eye, and so after eating marshmallows I left Cowgirl and sat on another log, talking to guests. Children ran about and played with large sticks they had found nearby, and as more cheap beer bottles were consumed, it wasn’t too long before our guests were yawning and ready to go to bed.

We traipsed back to the Ranch and for about half an hour the building resonated with the sounds of heavy footsteps lumbering around hallways, bathroom doors being opened and shut, and the guests bidding each other goodnight.

I managed to bump into Cowgirl before she headed upstairs to bed.

“Didn’t eat enough marshmallows?” I fold my arms and lean against the stairway banister.

“Oh,” she stops in her tracks, toast crumbs flying out of her mouth. “I think it’s the country air. It’s making me hungry, more than usual.” She hugs the small plate to her.

I really don’t mind - she could eat the entire contents of the larder for all I care - I just wanted an excuse to talk to her. To say something to her.

“Did you enjoy tonight?”

“Yes,” she smiles, sheepishly, looking away. “I haven’t sung round a camp fire since I was a teenager. And back then it was at a field in Dorking, not under the stars in the US!”

I smile back at her. “I’m glad. Well, you’d better get to bed…”

She frowns. “5.30am wake up call, right?”

“’fraid so, cowgirl. Just to take care of the horses though, then you can go back to bed. The guests won’t be riding them til the afternoon, so you can have a rest in the morning.”

“Alright…,” she shuffles up the stairs, head bowed, and I can’t help but grin. She’s so cute when she’s groggy in the morning.  
______________________________________________

OC’s POV

Silence.

No schedule.

Guests gone.

The past few days had been busy, and I’d had less time to myself. I’d also spent less time with Tom, as I was either having to interact with the guests on hacks, or keeping busy in the stables with Jimmy while Tom gave numerous classes to the guests.

Last night after dinner there had been a ‘party’ in the living room.

Because of the younger ones it couldn’t be a ‘let’s get trashed and twerk’ kinda party, so we ended up playing Twister, Buckaroo, and Cowboy-themed charades. Tom got his guitar out again and sang some Dolly Parton, although the squeals of kids rampaging through the room drowned out most of it.

This morning it was all hands on deck, making sure people left in time to catch their flights, as well as say our goodbyes.

Tom offered to drive a family to the nearest town to catch their train, rather than fork out for a taxi. He should be back soon.

I spend some time catching up on writing my journal entries, which had woefully fallen by the wayside, then grab my camera and potter about the site taking pictures that I’ll print out when I’m back in London.

It hits lunch time, so I scramble back to the Ranch, fling my camera on my bed and charge down to the dining room.

The table is laden with salads, fresh steaming bread, a cheese board, cold meats, two jugs of homemade lemonade that fizzes with glistening ice cubes floating at the top. And the cooks keep bringing more food in!

I wander round to the kitchen to ask if I can help, when Tom’s tall figure almost walks into me, as he carries two platters of crackers and crisps.

“Ah, hey cowgirl!” he takes a step back and presents one of the platters to me. “Crisp?”

“No, thank you, in a minute. Is there anything I can do to help?”

I can’t help but take in the flexed muscles in his forearm as he holds out the platter. Why does he always have to roll his sleeves up…

“Nope, unless you want to carry one of these?”

I take the platter from him and walk over to the table with him. Still standing, he picks up a cut of cured ham, rolls it into a tube-shape, and pops it into his mouth.

I just stand there, marveling at his dexterous fingers and sinful mouth.  
“Mmmm,” he groans, closing his eyes briefly, then plops down into a chair, eyes roving over the food.

“Hungry?”

He grins. “I’ve never been very good at being patient, when there’s something so delectable laid out before me.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and licks leftover ham from his thumb.

I shift on the spot.

“I have a big appetite, and I love tasting things.”

I nearly fall over, my mind playing dirty tricks on me. Instead, I take the nearest seat and rest my hands on the chair seat edge, holding onto the edge, hoping the rest of the staff will hurry up and get here. There’s an empty chair between me and Tom, so maybe someone will sit there and create a wall between us so I won’t be able to see him.

“You have a sweet tooth, don’t you cowgirl,” he smiles, steepling his fingers under his chin and looking at me. He winks.

“Depends. I like homemade cakes and puddings. Not so big on chocolate bars.” I glance at the kitchen doorway, waiting for one of the cooks to bustle in.

“I like sweet things, too.” His voice is low and languid. “Vanilla, honey, buttermilk, molten chocolate… do those things tempt you?”

I shift on my seat, feeling rather flushed.

“Here we are..,” one of the cooks walks in, carrying napkins and the salt and pepper mills. The rest of the staff follow. I notice Tom’s gaze never moves from me, despite the bustle of everyone else joining us, taking their seats and starting to load up their plates.   
____________________________________

TOM’S POV

And this had been the moment I had been dreading.

The desk-top calendar told no lies - the next couple of nights I would have to camp out in the forest, and make sure Cowgirl didn’t get too curious about it.

The staff were used to it, and easily accepted the idea that I liked to spend a few nights each month camping out under the stars.

The only thing was, I could imagine Cowgirl wanting to join me. And it would be very hard to say no, even though I absolutely would have to.

I get back to tallying things up in my accounts spreadsheet, my mind distractedly chewing on how to best handle tonight.  
______________________________________

“You be good, Sheba, and keep an eye on this one.” Crouching, I scratch my dog behind her ears then stand to turn to face Cowgirl. After telling her I would be camping out the next few days, she didn’t ask any questions, and didn’t ask to join me either. “A nice soft bed is much better than a hard forest floor’ I reasoned with her, trying to put her off.

I adjust my backpack and tent bag on my shoulder. “Sleep tight,” I smile at Cowgirl, then head on out to my clearing in the forest, my second home.

 


	6. Chapter 6

### 

￼  
At first I thought the shouting and noise was part of my dream, until I shook my head and woke up to hear very real windows being smashed.

My instinct was to cower under the covers and hope Tom would be sorting it out, whatever it is, but after a moment curiosity got the better of me. I slipped out of bed, wrapped myself in a blanket, and padded out into the hall.

The crashes and noise were coming from outside the property, thank god, and I made my way down to the main hallway where the other staff had gathered. Jimmy clutched a hunting gun, the maid was crying and being held by one of the cooks, and Tom wasn’t there.

Someone was banging the large front door fiercely, and the bangs echoed around us.

“What the hell’s going on?” I glance at Jimmy, warily eyeing up the gun in his hands.

 “I’m not sure. A group of villagers seem mighty upset about something. We’re under siege.” Jimmy doesn’t seem too scared by this.

“Has this happened before?”

Jimmy looks nervously towards the crying cook, then back at me.

“Only once.”

BANG

A gunshot is fired outside and I shriek. A man seems to be shouting out there.

“SETTLE DOWN,” Jimmy roars at the door. “GO HOME.”

I hear a man’s muffled voice shout back. “We can’t sleep easy with that thing around.”

Jimmy sighs. “It’s not real.”

There’s more inaudible conversation happening behind the door.

“Where’s Tom?” I ask.

“He’s out camping, thank God,” the cook answers.

“I’m going to speak with them,” Jimmy motions for us to step back, then he begins to open the door, readying his gun in case he is attacked.

There’s a commotion, louder shouting, the sound of boots scuffling on the wooden floor, then a large man with a grey beard and big hat pushes into the hallway. He carries a pitchfork and his face is red. He sways a little, and looks like he may have been drinking.

He glances around the large hallway, and over our faces.  
“Where is he?” he hisses, and begins to stalk towards the kitchen but Jimmy pulls him back by his shoulders.

“Like I said, he’s not here.”

The man wipes his mouth on his jacket sleeve, eyes flitting about, thinking.

“Tell me exactly what you saw. We can go look for it together. But you have to stop attacking this property.” Jimmy talks in an authoritative tone I hadn’t heard him use before.

The man sighs, and whirls around. “Well, it was, like I said, it was…. A large, half-man, half-beast kind of thing. Like one of those monsters in the books, you know? An abomination. Like some cursed devil-creature.”

Jimmy patiently listens to the man. “And where did you see it?”

“Why, I didn’t see it. Ol’ Bob in the bar told me about it. And he never tells no lies. Said it looked like your British fellow.” The man looks with wide-eyes at Jimmy, waiting for him to nod and understand.

“I see, Sir. So your friend saw some kind of mythological creature that looked like my boss?”

“Don’t you get snarky with me, son!” The man tries to throw a drunken punch at Jimmy, and almost falls over.

“I think it’s time you went home and slept this off, Sir,” I say quietly.

“And we can talk about this in the morning,” Jimmy continues, giving me a look.

“But the beast is out there! I don’t want it to attack my chickens.” The man rubs his face with his hands.

“If, by the morning, you find your chickens are gone, I will personally reimburse you. How does that sound?” Jimmy guides the man to the door, and he nods his head, his face full of confusion.

Outside the door, his companions mill about, waiting. Thankfully no more gun shots had been fired, or windows broken.

I don’t watch as Jimmy sends the man and his mob on their way. Instead, I sit at the bottom of the stairs and yawn.

Muted rabble turns to silence.

Jimmy slips back inside. “All gone.”

“Fucking hell,” I curse, rubbing my eyes. I’ve no idea what time it is but now things have settled down I really feel tired. “Let me get this straight. Some local man was told a story in the pub that Tom is some kind of monster that roams about threatening wildlife, so he got some of his mates together to form a lynch mob?”

Jimmy sighs. “That’s the gist of it.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “But look at what they’ve done! There’s broken glass and.. Someone could have been hurt!”

Jimmy wanders over to the window, toeing some glass shards on the floor with his boot. “We’ll send them the bill in the morning.”

The maid and cook head on upstairs, comforting each other. The rest of the staff head to the kitchen where it seems the worst of the damage was caused - bricks through the window had not only smashed the glass, but a drunkenly-fired bullet had coursed across the table, smashing a flower vase. Water was everywhere.

I schlepped upstairs, thankful that no one was hurt, and also glad that Tom hadn’t been here. Who knows what they may have done if they’d seen him.

______________________________________________

I slept in til ten, which was pretty late considering my usual schedule. I was surprised no one had woken me up to go check on the horses.

The horses! I hope the mob hadn’t hurt them!

I threw back the bed covers and pulled on my boots, grabbed my coat and ran down the hallway, then the staircase, then into Tom as he came through the front door.

“Cowgirl! Are you okay?” he pulls me into a bear hug.

“Yeah, yes but I don’t know about the horses, and your house is a complete wreck, and..,”

“Hey,” he holds me by my shoulders, looking squarely at me. “The horses are fine. I checked them early this morning when I got back. Jimmy told me about what happened. We’ve made a start on tidying things up, see?”

I look across the hallway to where the window had smashed. Indeed, someone had taped a tarpaulin sheet across it, and brushed away the shards on the floor.

I sigh loudly. “God it was crazy.”

“I can imagine,” Tom bites his lip. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t there. There are many things I would have liked to have said to our tall tale teller.”

I shake my head. “He was under the influence, I don’t think anything anyone could have said would have snapped him out of it. Jimmy was great, though.”

“Hm,” Tom nods, looking at the floor. “I’m grateful he was here. I take it you haven’t yet had breakfast?”

________________________________________

We sit with our backs propped up against the white painted fence of a paddock, a simple breakfast of fruits and muffins laid out on a checkerboard cloth between us.

“I’m counting down the minutes until our dear neighbour wakes up with a raging hangover, has his morning coffee, then realises what he did. I wonder if he sends his wife over to give an apology, or comes himself?” Tom muses as he polishes an apple on his sleeve.

“Are you going to take this to the police?”

He shakes his head and bites the apple. “I have a strong inkling he’ll easily pay for this and make amends without getting the police involved. I’m sure he’d rather this was handled discreetly, and avoid getting a criminal record, as well as being mentioned in the local press…,”

“You could do that.”

He glances at me. “I could, but the paperwork and court appearances would be dreary.”

I giggle, then follow Tom’s attention as a rusty grey truck trundles up to a stop outside the main building.

“Looks like he’s come alone. You happy to finish off these muffins, cowgirl?” He gives me a wink and goes to stand.

“Give him hell,” I announce, picking a blueberry muffin from the cloth. “And lecture him on the effects of alcohol. With a hangover, I bet he’d LOVE that.”

___________________________________________

The day passed peacefully enough, with little work for me to do in the stables. Most of last night’s damage had been cleared away by the rest of the staff, and Tom, in the morning while I slept (which I felt a little guilty about).

I thought I’d use the afternoon to try practising throwing the lasso.

I set up a fake bulls head in one of the paddocks and tried to copy what I’d see Tom do. I’ve never been good with Frisbees or anything of a throwing nature, so it took me a good half hour to even get part of the rope hoop to land on the makeshift head.

By the time afternoon became evening, I’d successfully lassoed the head twice.

I saw a long lone figure walking up towards the paddock carrying a tray.

Tom.

“Dinner?” I squint as he comes closer.

“We both like to dine al fresco,” he shrugs, and hands the tray to me over the paddock fence. Two covered plates sit on the tray, along with two sets of cutlery wrapped in gingham napkins. I think I can smell gravy.

Tom hooks a foot onto a lower slat of the fence, then with a push swings himself over the fence and lands next to me in the paddock.

“It’s tiring work catching static cattle,” he adjusts his hat, “so I thought you’d enjoy a roast dinner tonight.”

My jaw drops and I bounce on the spot. “With mash and Yorkshire puds?”

He nudges his shoulder against mine. “The whole kit and caboodle, cowgirl. Though I don’t have wine - Evian, for the lady?” He pulls a couple of bottles of water from his jacket pockets.

We sit on the grass and eat in friendly silence until our plates are cleared. It is getting pretty dark.

“Hold on a second…,” Tom murmurs, and gets up, jumping over the paddock fencing and heads off towards the stable. I rest back on my elbows and look out across the land. Even with little light, it looks beautiful - open, clear, with stars above.

Tom plonks down next to me. I hear a match strike, then soon we are illuminated by a small camping fire.

“Do you fancy dessert?” Tom rubs his hands together.

“God no, I’m stuffed. Thank you, though. Go get some if you want. What’s on the menu tonight?”

He reclines back on his elbows too to join me, his long body lying next to me.

“We have a lemon meringue pie.”

“Huh,” I nod, thinking I bet it would be delicious, yet I don’t have any space left in me.

Tom cocks his head to one side, and crosses his legs at the ankles. “It’s pretty good.”

“Hmm,” I murmur. “Sounds like you should get some.”

He turns to face me, licking his top lip quickly. “I think I might. Just a small slice.”

I chuckle. “Off you pop.”

No sooner has he gone than he arrives, with a flowery ceramic bowl and two spoons.

“Ufff,” I huff, and sit up, resting my head on my knees.

“Oh don’t you worry,” Tom mumbles as he places the bowl in his lap, then takes a spoon in each hand. “Both of these are for me.”

He then starts scooping up chunks of the pie with both spoons and shovels them into his mouth one after the other, making loud ‘num’ noises. I grin at him.

“You sure you’re not some beast after all?” I pick at the grass beside me, but he ignores me.

“Are you sure you don’t want a taste?” he scrapes at the bowl with a spoon. “When it’s gone, it’s gone.”

I shake my head, though the lemony scent does smell good….

I hear him smack his lips as he finishes the pie off. “I have an idea.”

“I’m still digesting, so if it involves more food or anything strenuous you might have to give me an hour.”

He kneels up and shuffles across to me until he’s right by my side, his face close to mine.

“Define ‘strenuous’?” he asks in a low voice.

I swallow. I feel a little flushed.

“Um, um, I don’t know… horse riding or something, you know, uh…,” I can’t think straight as his face comes closer still to mine, lemon and sugar wafting over me.

“Would a kiss count as strenuous?” he lowers his lips to my cheek and hovers there, his warm breath heating my already flushed cheek.

“Um, no, that would be okay…,” I fluster, and he warmly plants a kiss on my cheek, moaning a little as he does so. I close my eyes and a low moan forms in the back of my throat.

“And are you sure you don’t want to taste the pie?” he murmurs against my cheek. “It is utterly delectable.”

I gasp and can only nod my head slightly, as I feel the tips of his fingers tilt my chin a little, and slowly his mouth covers mine.

And god he tastes sublime.

He peppers my lips with tiny kisses, the bristles of his short goatee brushing against my jaw and nose. I let my hands stroke along his cheeks, and before I know it our tongues are stroking against each other, lemon and pastry and sugary meringue filling my senses.

I break away, panting, needing to catch my breath and help my head stop reeling.

“I’m… sorry, I… was that okay? Or have I just really embarrassed myself?” Tom lifts my chin to look into my eyes, and his gaze is earnest and sincere.

“No, wow, holy cow. Tom, that was … yummy.”

He chuckles. “Told you the pie was good.”

I smile shyly at him. “That’s one hell of a way to serve dessert.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I can think of other ways, too.”

I burst out laughing, and he giggles with me. He then smoothes my hair down along the back of my head.

He seems to hesitate, then moves in to kiss me again.


	7. Chapter 7

2AM. Can’t sleep. All is quiet, yet my mind is whirring with thoughts of heading back to my life in London, away from the open countryside, away from nature, away from… Tom.

I have a strong yearning to just wander around the countryside at night - not go too far, just get out there and make the most of being here before I’m in the land of buildings, crowded streets and the tube.

I quickly grab my jeans, some hiking boots, a jumper and jacket, and with a torch in hand quietly head out of the building.

It’s fairly cool out, and strangely light - the stars in the expansive sky give everything a blue tinge and it’s certainly not pitch black. My shoes crunch against the dirt track that heads out towards the nearby fields, and I walk on towards the forest.

As I walk, I get the idea to try some night swimming in the natural pool Tom had showed me on our first ride together. I haven’t brought a change of clothes or any swim wear, but I kind of don’t care. My time in the almost-wilderness is nearly up, so why not skinny dip? I can race back to the building in soggy clothes if I have to and snuggle up in some towels.

My torch light flashes between the trees and I spot the pool in the near distance. I have to walk across some thick fallen branches and ferns to get there.

I catch sight of a tent nearby the pool. Tom’s, maybe? Unless it’s a hobo or random camper. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea coming out here after all….

 

“Ouch! SHIT!” I step badly across a rabbit hole covered by branches on the ground, and before I know it I’ve landed on my arse which makes me yelp again as my hands, trying to help break my fall, land on spiky pine cones. I wince.

“Alice?” I hear Tom’s voice call out to me, and lift my head to see his torso poking out of the tent. A torch light skims over me.

“Sorry,” I call out. “Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“What are you doing here?” He sounds worried.

“Thought I’d go for a night walk. Look, I think I’ve twisted my ankle or sprained it or something. Could you, um, could you help me up? Sorry…,” I flush with embarrassment. I probably woke him up and now I’m asking him to get out of his cosy tent. Oh crap.

“Um,” I hear him fumbling about and the flashlight beam swings about as he starts to get up.

“I’m really sorry,” I call out, feeling like a right tool.

“No, no it’s quite alright. Let me come take a look at you,” he says softly and I hear, rather than see, him come to me, the flashlight now off.

I see the outline of his figure moving closer, a large dark shadow that seems to loom over me as I sit pathetically on the floor.

There’s some rustling and I realise he’s crouching down next to me. I feel his gloved hands at my left ankle.

“Um, it’s the other one,” I mumble.

“Ah, yes, okay..,” his hands glide across to my other ankle and he begins to push up the hem of my jean leg, then fumbles about with my shoelaces.

“I can help with that, if you put the flashlight on it might make it easier..,” I suggest, but Tom just clears his throat and sighs softly.

“I remember I have my torch somewhere. I dropped it when I fell….,” It must have broken or bumped itself off. I reach my arm out and pad the ground til I feel something rubbery.

“Got it,” I mutter and push the torch on.

I come face to face with a crest-fallen Tom.

Tear-rimmed eyes dart between mine, before he drops his head and looks away.

Because past his red-check-shirted torso, sits the body of a rusty brown horse, legs with hooves tucked under his horse belly.

I swallow.

Well, this is unexpected.

And so I do as all I can do, which is act as if this is normal.

“Let’s take this shoe off then, shall we,” I whisper, and reach across to try untying my laces. Tom keeps his head down, focusing on my shoe as he too helps me. He tugs down the top of my sock to expose my ankle and heel, then with his long fingers begins carefully putting little squeezes of pressure here and there to find where the pain lies.

“Do you know anything about sprains or twisted ankles?” I ask him, trying to get him to engage with me.

He raises an eyebrow, eyes still resolutely focused on my foot. “Only that rest and a bandage may help.”

“Ow,” I flinch as I shift my bum, only to sit on what I’m assuming is a nut or bud. Even through my jeans it digs in.

Tom’s eyes dart over me quickly. “Are you okay?”

“Could… would you mind if I could sit somewhere more comfortable? God I’m so embarrassed…”

Tom chuckles. “You’re embarrassed…,” I think I hear him murmur. “Come here.”

He shifts to scoop me up in his arms and it feels wonderful to be clear of the spiky forest floor. His horse legs then unfurl and a little unsteadily we get up. He walks me slowly to his tent. I let my head rest against his chest, feeling glad to be so close to him, yet wondering what to do about this awkwardness between us.

I mean, c’mon, he’s a fricking CENTAUR.

“It’s early morning,“ I mumble, my eyes still closed.

“Hmm?“ His voice rumbles in his chest under my ear. God his body is so warm.

He squeezes me gently in his arms as we come to a stop by his tent.

“I said it’s early morning. I come tramping up here waking you up and being a nuisance.”

“Sh.”

“No it’s true. I’m really sorry. I feel like a right prune.”

“Nothing wrong with prunes, cowgirl.”

I feel his lower body almost fold under me, before he sets me down on the soft grass at the entrance of his tent.

“That alright?” he whispers.

“Yep. Thanks. Oh lord, I’ll be alright now. You go back to sleep. Pretend I’m not here.” I start to roll onto my side but a sharp pain rises up from my ankle and I squawk.

Tom chuckles. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

He leans across next to me into the tent and starts rustling about. His kneeling horse front legs are near me. I really want to reach out and touch, but that would be rude, so I just lie there like a lemon and wait.

“This will have to do,” he holds up a grey tee shirt and starts to wind it around itself, so it looks like a scarf. He then shifts down to wrap it around my ankle.

“Eeep,” I squeak. It does hurt at first, but then starts to feel numb. Tom frowns, watching my face with concern.

“Any better?”

I nod. “It’s like period pain, only in my foot.”

“I’ve got some chocolate somewhere, if that would help?”

That makes me laugh, and Tom smiles before biting his lip.

“Soooo…. What are you doing here at…,” he looks at his watch, “…. quarter to three in the morning?”

“Resting a broken ankle.”

“Broken now is it, lassie?” He raises his eyebrows to his forehead in mock surprise.

“Some jessop put a really nice pool next to a woodland obstacle course and now I am mortally wounded,” I pout.

“Well that sounds atrocious. I think somebody needs a cuddle.”

He helps me sit up, then sits next to me, his arms around my waist, horse legs tucked next to my side.

We sit in silence, my heart beating so loud I swear he must be able to hear it, if not feel it.

I feel his breath near my neck, and he swallows.

“Did you come looking for me?”

I jolt a little, taken aback. “No, no I couldn’t sleep. So I thought I’d come for a night swim.”

“Oh,” he exhales softly.

“And you? Do you like camping here?”

I feel him nod, the tip of his nose stroking against strands of my hair as his head moves.

“Yeah.”

Silence.

Uuuuuurgh there’s such an elephant in the room….

“Tom…” “Cowgirl…”

“You go fir…” “After you…”

Giggles.

I rest back against his chest, and he drops his chin to my shoulder.

“Fuck it, I’m just going to say something,” I start picking with the skin around my thumbnail.

Tom lets out what sounds like a strangled noise, then groans. “Go on then.”

“Can I touch your fur?”

“Um, okay?” Tom sounds surprised.

I reach down and let my fingertips skim along the thick short strands of brown hair at the top of one of his front thighs. It makes a scratching noise.

“That okay?” I whisper.

“Mmm hmm.”

I muse as I stroke him.

“Does anyone else know about… this?”

“Only my mum,” he sniffs. “It’s not something you want people to know about, as you may have recently noticed…,”

“I’m really sorry about that.”

“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but I just…,” I shift to try look at him a little better. “I offer a formal apology for the behaviour of my fellow …. non-centaur folk. For being dim-witted and mindless and thinking it okay to attack someone, whether they‘re a centaur or not.”

He shrugs. “I suppose it’s to be expected. I’m…. a bit of a freak.”

“No!” I turn in his arms to kneel in front of him, lumbering my poorly leg under me.

He looks so resigned to being… treated this way. His shoulders are slumped, his eyes apologetic. It’s almost too much to bear. He’s gorgeous - part horse or not - and I’m flipping narked off that a bunch of twits have dented his sense of self.

“I am, though,” his horse legs shift, the hooves pawing a little at the ground.

I can’t help but place my palms on his cheeks and look in his eyes.

“I promise you, you are glorious. If anything, they are the freaks.”

He drops his eyes, and I let my hands fall. Who am I kidding - why should he listen to me? I’m just a girl passing through here on a working holiday.

“You really need to rest. We can talk more about this in the morning,” he murmurs, and places his hands on my shoulders to try turn me onto my back.

“Can I rest on you?” I ask quietly, biting my lip, expecting him to say no.

“That would be nice,” he whispers.

And so I use a centaur’s belly as a pillow.

 


	8. Chapter 8

### 

 

My night is fairly restless, my leg sending pains through me now and then, along with thoughts about Tom whirling through my brain.

Yet I eventually wear myself out, and when I wake I find Tom the centaur gone. My head rests instead on a folded up blanket, and Tom’s leather jacket is lain over me.

I hear rustling in the tent behind me, catching glimpses of movement in the gap between the opened zip-up entrance flap.

 I feel stiff, and start to sit up with a groan.

Tom pokes his head out of the tent cheerily. He grins at me, eyes clear and bright.

“You’re awake! How’s the foot?”

I frown, trying to move my ankle. Feels like the tee-shirt-bandage has cut off the blood supply as my foot feels dead.

“Well I’ve still got a foot, so that’s something,” I smile.

“We’ll get you fixed up properly at the Ranch. First - breakfast.” He disappears back into the tent and there’s more rustling of plastic bags.

I gaze out at the view. The sunlight shines brightly across the pool water, and the large green pine trees reach up high into the blue sky. The air is dewy and fresh, lingering on my cheeks. I can hear birds jumping about in the trees above.

A chocolate bar hits me on the shoulder. Then a banana flies across my face and lands on the ground nearby.

“Oi! Stop throwing food at me, cowboy!”

I hear him chuckle, and it is so good to have him in a happy mood.

He crawls out of the tent carrying a carton of juice and a brown paper bag. He sits cross-legged next to me and tears open the bag, laying it out like a plate on his jean-clad knee. We have two large Danish pastries to eat.

“I hope this will sate your appetite til we get back. Then there’ll be eggs and hash browns and granola and yogurt and smoothies…”

My eyes bulge. “Woah, maybe I shouldn’t have anything now…,”

Tom holds up a pastry to my lips. “Mmmm. Can you smell that lovely, buttery, Danish goodness? Can you imagine what it may taste like on your hungry lips? Do you really want to deny yourself the pleasure?”

I give him the side eye then take a massive bite. “There goes my self-control,” I mumble as I chomp.

“You’re injured. You need looking after,” he reasons, wolfing down his pastry.

__________________________________

  
Tom packed up the tent and in exchange for him giving me a piggy back ride home, I wore his backpack and held onto the tent bag which dangled in the crook of my elbow.

We still hadn’t talked about .. y’know… that… but part of me was wondering if I’d hallucinated the whole thing. Maybe I’d fallen and along with hurting my ankle, I’d lost my mind.

Tom adjusts me around his hips and I wonder what it would be like to sit on his horse back.

Sheba comes trotting down the dirt track, woofing happily and wagging her tail as she greets us.

“There’s a girl,” Tom smiles, and we walk up to the main building.

Breakfast is huge, as ever, and despite the small pre-breakfast we’d had, I piled my plate high. I’m officially injured, and officially need looking after, so what better way to look after myself than load up on waffles.

I laid my tray on the large dining table and messed about trying to pull a chair out to sit on.

“Oh no you don’t,” Tom suddenly appears next to me, and picks up my tray.

“Bed. Rest. Now,” he looks pointedly at me.

I give him a withering look and follow him up to my room.

He helps me into bed, then sets the tray on my lap. He then pulls up a small wicker chair to sit by my bed.

“You don’t have to feed me…,” I mumble, feeling a bit awkward.

He wipes his hands on his thighs and licks his bottom lip. “Ha, no, I wasn’t going to. I actually wanted to chat.”

Oh god. Chat.

I blow on the hot cup of tea and eye him over the cup rim.

“I.. can imagine it is very confusing for you to have seen what you saw….,” he flusters and flaps his hands about as he talks. It’s ridiculously endearing.

“…. and I shall try to explain things a bit more clearly. But please, do not tell anyone about this?”

“Of course, God, I wouldn’t! Of course,” I shovel a pile of scrambled eggs onto my fork and frown. “There’s nothing to tell, anyway.”

“Right, well….,” he ruffles his hair and sinks back into the chair. “The crux of it is that once a month, around the full moon, the lower half of me changes at night.”

“Just at night?” Man these eggs are good.

“Uh-huh. So I go to the forest at night during those times to sleep, away from everyone, including the staff.”

“They don’t know?”

“They know I like camping out there, but no, they don’t know what I am.”

I skewer a chunk of waffle with my fork.

“Maybe they’d be okay with it.”

“That’s not a risk I’m willing to take,” he shrugs.

Yum yum, waffle.

“Are there other people.. like you?” I feel like I sound so rude. Cringe.

“There must be, but I haven’t met or heard of any.” He rests his chin in his hand, and chews on the inside of his cheek.

“So do you, erm, attack chickens?”

He tilts his head back and laughs deeply. “No, nothing at all like that. I don’t roam about scaring livestock. I just stay in my tent, usually.”

“Just a monthly few nights of having to sleep in the forest then?” I mull it over.

He nods, frowning slightly.

“Well, every month for a few days things get weird for me.”

He laughs softly. “Do you change into part-animal too?”

I sip my tea. “I devour a lot of brownies and sometimes curl up in a ball crying.”

He smiles. “Well, I can cook brownies.”

I grin, and reach out for his hand. He takes it gently, stroking his thumb across my knuckles.

“I like sleeping under the stars,” I reassure him. But then I have to look away, as his eyes are so tender and trusting it’s making my heart ache.

“Um,” I start, wracking my brain to try and steer the conversation into something more factual, less emotional. “Were you born like this?”

He looks down briefly. “I was born with the gene, yet it doesn’t develop until adolescence. I didn’t know it would happen until one night.. when it just.. happened.”

“That must have been terrifying,” I muse aloud.

He strokes at his stubble, gazing at the edge of my bed as he remembers. “I was at scout camp, which in a way was a good thing as I was able to go off to the woods at night to be alone. I was so glad when my mum picked me up the next day. We talked through it in the car home. I’ve never talked to my dad about it though.”

“So your dad isn’t like this?”

“I don’t think so. My mum isn’t, either. I suspect I’ve inherited a dormant gene that’s skipped a few generations and seems to have been activated in my body.”

“Wow,” I settle back into the pillows propping me up. “Maybe I have a dormant gene that’s not yet activated. Maybe I can have wings.”

“You never know, cowgirl,” Tom smiles warmly and takes the tray from me, standing up. “Um, I didn’t scare you, did I?”

“Hmm?” I frown, trying to think back to a moment he may have.

“When you first saw me, with… my changed self. Did I frighten you?” He looks briefly down at the floor.

I just want to wrap my arms around him.

“Never,” I gaze at him, hoping he’ll look at me and see how much I mean it. “It was unexpected, but never frightening. People with pitchforks and guns are frightening. You never could be, Tom.”

He nods his head, then shyly heads towards the door. “I’ll pop up again in a bit. I was going to make some jam later, maybe you’ll be up to helping me out?”

I smile at him. “Would love to. Thanks, Tom. You’re good at looking after me.”

He gives me a massive grin, eyes flashing a little sparkle. “I’m good at lots of things, cowgirl.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

### 

 

I’m sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter, my legs dangling down over the cupboards below.

“… then we stir in some honey, which is the secret ingredient…,” Tom nods at the big jar on the counter next to me, and I take off the lid. He drizzles it into the purple liquid simmering on the stove.

“Then we need to boil it up…,” he turns up the heat, and sniffs the fruity steam. “Mmm, I love that smell. Come here, cowgirl.”

 I lean over and take a sniff. It reminds me of when my Nan used to make mixed berry pies.

“While that’s on the go, come try this one.” He whirls across the kitchen to the fridge, and pulls out a half-used jar of deep red jam.

He sets it down on the counter along with a loaf of crusty bread.

“This is all part of the recovery program I have for you,” he mutters as he tears off a chunk of bread. “Strawberry jam on homemade bread has magical healing properties for sore ankles.”

“Does it now, Doctor Tom?”

“It does indeed,” he smooths jam across the bread with a knife, then holds it to my mouth. “Please try it. It’s delicious.”

And it certainly is. Not just the jam or bread, which are both lovely, but to be sitting on a rustic counter top being hand-fed by a handsome cowboy really is just delicious.

He moves to check on the jam’s consistency, dipping his little finger into the mixture, then raising it to his lips to lick, before sucking his finger clean. I have to look away briefly.

“Hm. Nearly done.” He turns his attention to me and looks at me under hooded eyes. “Do you know what else has magical healing properties?”

I lick my lips. Um…

He stands between my legs, and folds his arms, gazing down at me.

“Kisses from centaurs.”

“Oh,” I raise my eyebrows, partly feigning surprise and partly genuinely considering whether there may be truth to that. I’ve never kissed a seemingly mythological creature before. Maybe they can heal wounds.

He bites his lip. “Do you think it might be worth trying? Just for the sake of your health, of course.” He puts on a serious face.

“Of course,” I nod, mirroring his expression. “Absolutely no attraction between us here, at all.”

He scoots in closer, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, and strokes the tip of his nose along mine.

“Oh!,” I whisper, a thought dawning on me. “I feel bad because I know about your big secret, but you don’t know about mine.”

He wrinkles his forehead. “You have a big secret?”

“Well, it’s something no-one knows about. It’s only fair.”

He strokes stray strands of my hair behind my ear.

“Well, here goes. I’ve fancied you since I first saw you.”

His chest rumbles with laughter.

“And not only that, but I’ve been trying really hard to not fancy you.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Because firstly, you’re my boss…,”

He scoffs. “Now, really…,”

“….And. I’m going back to London. I can’t fall for you.”

He rocks me gently side to side. “You’re falling for me, eh?”

I lightly push my hands against his chest. “No! I’m not allowed to.”

“Silly…,” he mumbles, and his lips nudge close to mine.

And his lips are smooth, sweet, persistent.

Reassuring, gentle, yearning.

And maybe, just maybe, magical.

His lips softly pull away, letting me breathe.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he whispers, his eyes searching mine.

My mouth hangs open, gaping at him. Good lord.

“My head’s spinning,” I blurt out.

“Oh, cowgirl,” he smiles with a sigh, and leads me by the hand to the front porch, where I sit in the rocking chair.

“I’m going to finish setting the jam, then I’ll need to help Jimmy out in the stables. Feel free to rest, or eat, or watch TV. If you need me just call.”

He doffs his hat and goes back into the house.

I briefly close my eyes and internally squeal at what just happened.

How the hell am I going to return to London now?

  
______________________________________________

“You’re not married or attached, then?”

Tom adjusts the tent bag slung over his shoulder, and chuckles. “No, there isn’t a distant wife and kids somewhere.”

My brow furrows. “Um, what about previous girlfriends…. You said hardly anyone knows you’re a centaur. So did you keep it secret from them?”

He bows his head, boots scuffing against the forest floor as we approach the pool. “Ha, girlfriends. Let me see.” He takes my hand as we walk over a couple of felled tree trunks before reaching the little clearing Tom uses to pitch up on.

“For a long time I just…. I don’t know, abstained from girls, I suppose.”

His eyes are hooded under the brim of his cowboy hat, and I can’t make out his expression in the late evening dark.

“I spent some time trying to find out if centaur women existed. Theoretically, maybe they do, but I couldn’t find any to meet in real life. Plus just because someone else is… ‘made’ like you, doesn’t mean you’re going to get on, let alone be attracted to each other.”

He drops his bags to the ground and crouches down to begin undoing the tent bag. I crouch down with him, being careful not to put too much pressure on my healing ankle.

“Here, if you could lay out this groundsheet….,” Tom pulls out a folded up plastic-looking sheet from his hiking bag.

He clears his throat. “And yourself?” His face falls momentarily. “Don’t tell me, there’s a Mr Cowgirl back in the big smoke?” He pouts, and I giggle, playfully swatting his forearm.

“No, I’m all yours,” I blurt out, almost bringing my hands to my mouth seconds later in embarrassment. I hadn’t quite meant it to sound the way it did. I crawl to the side, and start unfolding the ground sheet which rustles in the dark.

Tom tips the brim of his hat up with a gloved hand, and grins. “All mine, eh?”

I focus on laying the sheet down neat and flat. “I mean… there’s no one else in the picture at the moment, that’s all.”

Tom crawls across to me on hands and knees, and tilts my chin up til we’re eye to eye.

He breathes softly, blue eyes boring into mine. I want to reach up and stroke the little bristles along his chin.

“It’s okay. I’m all yours, too.”

I swallow, as the look of sincerity in his eyes almost takes my breath away. I feel his words are not just telling me that he’s simply available to… date(?) me exclusively at the moment, but that he’s giving himself to me.

Before I have a chance to respond, Tom pulls back to sit on his heels, his palms gripping the top of his thighs tightly. “Ah, yes, it’s kicking in now.”

“What?!” I ask, watching helplessly as he awkwardly stands up, feet unsteady on the ground.

“The Turn,” he stumbles over to a nearby tree and leans heavily against it. “If you don’t mind, could you look the other way?”

“Of course! Of course,” I hurriedly turn myself so I am sitting looking out across the pool.

I hear shifting sounds behind me, as Tom transforms, as well as little grunts and huffs. I can only imagine that the transformation puts some strain on his body. I just hope it doesn’t hurt him.

Soon there is near-silence.

“Is it… are you… is everything okay?” I call out.

“Yeah…,” I hear him sigh.

“Can I turn around yet? Or would you like some privacy…?” I look down and pull my jumper sleeves over my hands. I feel kind of awkward, like I’m impinging on his privacy, even though he wanted me to come tonight.

“No, it’s, it’s alright,” he exhales quietly, and so I twist around.

Tom stands shyly next to the tree, almost half his body hidden by the trunk, as if peeking around a door. Just as before, his top half is unchanged, yet beyond the hem of his shirt is the body of a rusty brown horse. His arms hang limply at his sides, then he starts to nervously rub along his bicep with a hand.

“Hey,” I say softly, glad to see that he seems okay. Not crying out in pain.

“Hi,” he leans his head against the tree trunk, and his horse legs shift in small steps on the spot below him.

I stand up, and start to carefully walk to him.

He laughs anxiously and looks down. “This feels like…,” he exhales loudly, “… like walking naked into a room full of clothed people, under bright unflattering neon lights…”

I frown.

“So embarrassing,” he shakes his head, and knocks at the tree trunk with a loose fist. “I know I shouldn’t feel this way but…,” he sighs, “I do.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, cowboy,” I’m only a few feet away from him, and so I reach out my hand, palm up, gesturing for him to give me his hand.

“Hm,” a familiar sparkle flashes in his eyes. “There’s lots of you I haven’t seen yet.”

I roll my eyes, and he walks towards me, folding his arms across his chest. “Since I’ve exposed myself to you, two nights running, I think it only fair that I cop an eye of your legs.”

My laughter rings around the pool, and Tom waggles his eyebrows at me.

“Fine. You know what? Fine. Let’s do this.” All business-like, I quickly undo the zip and pull my jeans down to my ankles. I then stand still, brazen, with my arms folded across my chest, mirroring Tom’s stance.

“There. Now we’re even Stevens. Although,” I look up, at the tree tops, remembering, “you have seen most of my legs before, that one time I wore shorts.”

In my periphery I see Tom’s head lowering, and turn my attention to see him settling down on the floor in front of me, his horse legs tucked to the side.

I go to take a step back, but Tom quickly places his palms at the back of my legs, keeping me in place.

“Remember you asked last night if you could touch my fur?” He looks up at me, and takes his hat off.

“Um, yep?” I start to feel the cool night air bringing up goosebumps on my exposed skin.

“Well, I have a question for you, too.” He runs the tip of his gloved index finger along the side of my knee.

“Can I kiss you here?” He leans forward til his mouth is hovering over my knee cap, a warm breath soaking into my skin.

I sway slightly on the spot, close my eyes briefly and nod.

I watch him slowly plant a soft, warm, open-mouthed kiss on my knee, and it’s all I can do to not collapse onto the floor. I bend over a little so I can run my hand through his hair, also using him for balance.

“God, Tom…,” I pant, “you’ve got to stop doing this.”

“Stop what?” he whispers, and nuzzles his forehead on my thigh just above my knee.

“Being so… so…,” I can’t finish my sentence as he wraps his long warm arms around my hips, and presses his chest against my thighs.

“I need to sit down, baby,” I whisper, my balance about to fail me, and Tom lets me go. I pull up my jeans, and chew on my lip as I wander back to the ground sheet. Tom follows me.

I sit bent-legged on the sheet, and Tom sits next to me, drawing me close to him with his arm around my shoulders. I let my head rest in the crook of his neck.

I absent-mindedly gaze down at one of his horse legs, which is extended out casually under him on the sheet.

“Does it hurt? When you… transform?” I reach a hand down and start stroking the top of his extended leg.

“Sort of. Though I’ve got used to it. It’s hard to describe,” he muses. “Just before the Turn, I feel a deep rooted pain, like I’ve been shot in the gut, but then as the process unfolds, I feel relief. Like going to the toilet after hours of trying to hold it in.”

“And you have to go through this for like… a week, each month?”

“No, no, only three days. Sometimes two, strangely. Never more than three, though.”

I nod. “Do you have to sleep out here? In the winter it must be cold, right?” I snuggle in closer to him, and a surge of protective instinct takes over me. I want to take him back to the Ranch and get him tucked in, rather than be out here.

“I prefer to sleep here,” he says quietly. “No one can disturb me, or stumble upon me..,”

“Apart from me,” I interject,

“Yes, well… you just can’t keep away from me can you, cowgirl,” I feel him grin next to the top of my head.

“Hm. Oh - you could put a ‘do not disturb’ sign on your bedroom door,” I suggest.

“Mmmmm….. No. Not sure if it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Not after what happened the other night. If this got out, they’d skin me alive.”

I nuzzle my head against his chest, momentarily hating people.

“Well you should be allowed to be a horse in your own home,” I mumble against his shirt.

“A horse?” he says in a low, amused voice.

“Centaur, then.”

“Neigh,” he grumbles, and I giggle. Though in the back of my mind, I’m planning how he can be at home during these few days, rather than have to schlep down to the woods with his tent.

“I think we should put the tent up, don’t you?” he mumbles into the top of my head, and I agree with a sigh.

We make quick work of it, and soon we have everything stored in the two-man tent, including a hoard of snacks Tom had pillaged from the kitchen.

“Hop in,” Tom nods his head at the entrance, and I rather ungracefully wriggle in, taking off my hiking boots and wrapping his red blanket around me. I shift to the side to make room for him, and it is a bit of a wrestle fitting us in comfortably with his extra legs. We end up lying on our sides, back to back. It is dark, Tom’s torch propped up his corner of the tent, casting a little beacon of light across us. We pass a large bag of popcorn back and forth between us.

“You’re leaving in two days. Less than two days, really,” his words hang limply in the air, and I close my eyes shut. Hard.

“Mmm-hmm,” I fold my hands under my cheek, resting on the camping pillow. I don’t really know what else to say.

“Do you have to go?” he asks so quietly I wonder if I’m imagining things.

I sigh. “I have my job, and… my flat and… my life back there.”

“But do you have to?” I feel his back expanding and contracting behind me as he breathes.

I think about it. I guess the world wouldn’t end if I didn’t go back. But ‘my life’, as I know it… knew it… would be gone. I don’t know if I’m ready to pull the plug on it yet.

“It’s… I …,” I sigh, struggling for words. “I don’t know. Truly, I don’t know.”

I hear the foil packet of the popcorn bag rustle, then Tom chomping. “Could I persuade you to stay?”

“That wouldn’t be fair on you or me. You shouldn’t need to persuade me to stay.”

He continues eating. “Okay.”

I sigh, and try to sit up and turn to look at him, smooshing my head against the tent wall as I move. I watch him gazing dully at the popcorn packet in his hand, and lean down to kiss his cheek.

“We have a day and a bit ahead of us. Let’s make the most of it,” he whispers, and shifts his head until his lips meet mine for a kiss.

 


	10. Chapter 10

### 

It took me a few moments to orient myself when I woke. All I could see was bright green.

Ah! Tent wall.

I groaned and relaxed down from my side onto my back, then realised Tom’s body should have been pressed up next to me. I squinted my eyes open and found him lying on his side, facing me, fully dressed, in human form.

“You been awake long?” my question turns into a yawn, and I cover my mouth with a hand to mask my morning breath.

“A little while,” he smiles softly, “making the most of being able to watch you sleep, while I can.” He leans across and kisses me sweetly on the forehead, humming as he does so, a low rumble pouring through me.

“Did you sleep well?” his voice ghosts over my skin.

“It was okay. A hug from you would make it all worth it.” I snake my arms around his torso and he slowly lowers his body down over me, lying on top of the sleeping bag.

“Well I do have some good news for you,” he gives me a lop-sided smile, and I almost blush. “Today I have a special on. Unlimited cuddles. And,” he brings his lips to my ear to whisper, “for tonight, a complimentary upgrade from this tent to a very large bed, complete with a cowboy attendant, available for your exclusive use, if it suits madam.”

I wriggle in his arms, grinning, and look up at him, before he begins tickling along my sides.

“Unfortunately… heh… there is some work to do… <pant> back at the Ranch,” he eases up on the tickles, and I sit up a little.

“I guess the sooner we get it out the way, the sooner we can have some fun,” I stroke along his eyebrows, smiling as his eyes remain steadfastly on me.

_____________________________________________

The day passed pretty quickly. I helped Jimmy clear out the stables, then Tom mentioned he was heading out to run errands in town.

“You’re welcome to join me, if you like. Both of you. Might be good to have a change of scenery.”

Me and Jimmy squeezed into the front of Toms pick up truck. We stopped at a nearby farm for hay for the horses, then headed into the nearest town, a two hours drive away.

“How about we split up, do our own thing, and meet back here by 5pm. What do you think?” Tom locked the truck and started walking around to where me and Jimmy stood on the pavement.

I’d glanced over the town as we’d driven in - a main shopping street with a department store at the end, with a few side streets leading off the main drag. The Londoner in me couldn’t fathom how anyone could keep themselves entertained for more than 15 minutes here.

Jimmy nodded and looked at his watch. “Sounds good. See you then.”

He ambled off purposefully towards the high street.

“Probably off to the record shop, cowgirl,” Tom takes a step closer to me. “You’re welcome to go explore, too. And if…,” he dips his head a little, trying to meet my gaze. “If shopping isn’t really your thing, then there’s a very nice park with a small petting zoo a few streets away.”

I nod. Well, since I’ll be flying back to London tomorrow, I guess I should make the most of being here and explore a little…

“I know a very good tour guide who would love to show you around. He’s very cheap, too. And I think he’s available this afternoon.”

I instinctively frown, thinking I don’t need a guide - this town is so small! - when Tom doffs his hat and clicks his heels together, motioning for me to link arms with him. “Shall we?”

Relief washes through me, and it’s only then I realise how much I had hoped to be with Tom today.

Thoughts of landing in Heathrow and traipsing back to my flat made me shudder, and I tried to put these thoughts out of my head as he strolled alongside me.

“They have guinea pigs, donkeys, and even a llama,” he grins, briefly looking up at the sunny sky. “There’s also a lake where you can hire small boats. I’m thinking we could go get ice creams and row about looking for ducks. What do you think?”

I grin, leaning my body against his side momentarily. “Perfect. But hey, don’t you have errands to run, things to pick up from town?”

We cross a street and head down a semi-residential street, at the end of which is a large wooden gate that leads to parkland.

“I kind of used that as a cover,” he says quietly, and gives me a quick side glance.

“What do you mean?”

“While it’s true that yes, I needed both yours and Jimmy’s help with the hay, and yes, I wanted to offer you both the opportunity to have an afternoon out away from the Ranch, I also … hoped I could spend the afternoon with you. The only things I need to do in town is pick up some boot polish and go to the bank, but I can do that…. Any time.”

We walk through the wooden park gates, passing mothers with buggies and toddlers in reins. The smell of cut grass and dirt fills the air.

Tom holds my hand and I grin as we amble along a stone path towards the petting zoo. This is the first public display of affection between us.

We look at owls in their aviary, Tom doing bird impressions to try and get them to hoot back at him. A volunteer lets us hold some very large grey bunnies, that feel as heavy as cats. We watch chickens strut around their pen, and Tom tells me that when he first bought the Ranch they had chickens there.

“I was a little bit too earnest and clueless when it came to drafting my first business plan,” he smiles wryly, crouching with me to peer at the hens up-close in their enclosure.

“Initially I wanted to look after neglected, orphaned, or injured horses, and sell chicken eggs. Buck buck,” he clucks as a little red hen eyes him through the wire fencing.

“Raising a small coop ethically does not pay the bills, and neither does looking after poorly animals, unfortunately, so I gave the chickens away to local farmers and focused my efforts on using the Ranch for cowboy experience holidays.”

“Are the horses rescued horses, then?”

Tom nods. “Yep. Well enough for some gentle exercise, but not up to ‘work’ or cow-herding.”

I smile, then a cockerel loudly crows in the centre of the pen, making the hens antsy.

Tom chuckles. “I had a few months of waking up to the sound of that, too. That’s one thing I don’t miss about my chicken-keeping days.”

We meander out of the petting zoo, and walk arm in arm along a tree-lined pathway towards the park lake. I feel so serene and happy.

We get ice cream cones, complete with chocolate Flakes, then Tom guides me to a small pier where a sixteen year old boy guards over a row of small wooden rowing boats.

Soon, we are afloat. I hold our ice creams, while Tom begins to row us out away from the water’s edge.

We’re soon approaching a small, tree-lined island where it seems geese like to hang out. Tom slows our boat down, and lets the oars rest in their wooden holders.

“Come here, cowgirl,” he motions to me, and I take his hand as he helps me shift down towards him, turning carefully so I am sitting with my back against his chest. I hand him his ice cream.

We sit in amiable silence for a moment, enjoying the ice cream, the afternoon heat, being together…

“Is this a dream?” I unconsciously mumble.

Tom kisses the top of my head. “Happy?”

“Mmmm,” I hum happily, and pull his arm tighter across my waist.

“I won’t let go til you tell me to,” he murmurs by my head, and I close my eyes.

A few seconds later a duck quacks loudly by us, sounding like its laughing. I makes both me and Tom giggle.

I sit up and look around. There’s a black and white duck standing at the edge of the island, its tail wagging from side to side.

Tom grips his arm closer around my waist.

“Not letting you go,” he mumbles.

I giggle. “Tom,” I begin, wanting to tell him that it’s okay, that he can let go because I’d come back into his arms very soon again… but knowing that wouldn’t be true.

I feel my heart beat quicker, a small surge of panic coursing through me.

Tomorrow all this would be gone.

________________________

After the pond, we meandered back into town, and grabbed hot chocolates with whipped cream and marshmallows. It would have been the perfect end to the perfect afternoon if I could have been able to shake off the feeling of dread thickening in me, for tomorrow’s departure.

I think Tom sensed something was up, as he tried to distract me over our hot drinks with anecdotes about the Ranch - like when one of the horses broke free one night during a storm and was found sleeping under a bus shelter. Or when a previous volunteer had a fling with one of the holiday makers. Or when Tom experimented with making potato jam, which tasted vile, yet Sheba seemed to love it and he’d make it for her now and then, still.

Everything he said made me want to stay, to find out more. I wanted to hear more stories. Not only that, I wanted to experience these things too, with Tom. I wanted to…

…..oh, wow. I wanted to share his life with him.

This realisation dawned on me just as Tom pulled his hand away from mine and pulled up his sleeve to reveal his watch.

“Ah, it’s almost 5. Jimmy’ll be back at the truck. Better go, eh?” He sets his hat on his head and stands, offering me his hand, and we head back towards his truck.

I feel morose.

________________________________

The ride home was long and quiet - Jimmy had his earphones in, while gazing out of the window. Tom had the truck radio on. And I was sandwiched between the two, trying to focus on the radio and failing, as I watched the road pass under us.

Tom mostly kept his eyes on the road, checking the mirrors now and then, occasionally glancing his eyes at me. I don’t think he felt comfortable discussing anything too personal with Jimmy there, and I was glad. I was still feeling unsettled and confused.

I had been very sure that I needed to go back to London.

My whole life had been geared up to what I had there now.

I’d studied hard at school, got into a decent enough university, hustled to get internships at the best marketing agencies, climbed the damn ladder to get more responsibility, pay, and a better job title…

London had been everything to me. No other city I’d rather live in. Never get tired of London.

The more I told myself about how important my job and city was to me, the more I realised none of it really mattered.

So I worked hard to get where I got to. But does my work make me happy?

London is so busy and diverse. It’s also grey and gives me headaches.

But what was I thinking. This was just a ‘holiday’ flirtation.

“You alright?” Tom ask quietly, as the truck bumbles up the dirt track towards the Ranch.

I shake my head, as if to clear my mind. “Yeah, just hungry I think. Have I got time for a shower before we eat?”

_________________________________________

  
We all ate together, with the housekeeper and cooks, as it was my last night at the Ranch. When pudding was brought out (bread and butter, with vanilla custard), everyone clinked their water glasses with their spoons, and goaded Tom for a speech. I bowed my head, feeling a red blush creep up my neck.

Tom stands, eyeing me carefully, holding his glass up.

“We are all very glad to have had you here, Alice. The horses have loved you - they have told me that themselves.”

Everyone looks at each other, laughing. I smile out of politeness, trying to keep my emotions in check. I don’t want to cry tonight. I want to save everything up for the flight back, and cry quietly under my eye mask where no one can see.

“The punters have loved you too, and you’ve been an asset for us. We really do wish you could stay longer.” Tom swallows, and I look away.

“But we’ve been blessed to have you as long as we have. Thank you, Alice. Truly.”

I can’t look up as Tom finishes, his soft baritone searing into my heart. I take a deep breath.

“To Alice!” One of the cooks raises her glass, and everyone reaches their glasses in to clink together.

I mumble my thanks, smiling at everyone, letting my eyes skim swiftly past Tom.

“Thank you, everyone, for making me feel so welcome. It’s been an amazing experience. I will never forget any of it.”

“You’re welcome back at any time,” Tom murmurs, and I catch his gaze. I wish I hadn’t.

His eyebrows are softly lifted, his expression hopeful.

“You are indeed my dear,” says the cook. “Now get stuck in, before this pudding gets cold!”

___________________________________

I tried to keep my gaze off Tom as we finished our meal, then to keep myself busy, I helped the cooks in the kitchen with the washing up, despite their protests.

I could put off the inevitable no more, and headed upstairs to start packing. Although my flight wasn’t til 11 in the morning, I wanted to get most of my packing done tonight. It would keep me occupied, and mean I could maybe sleep-in in the morning.

I didn’t have too much to pack, and after half an hour of squeezing things into my case I sat down on the edge of my bed with a sigh. It was 9.30pm. Too early to sleep. But if I stayed up, if I stayed awake, I’d just be mooching about feeling sad, right?

There’s a knock at the half-opened door, and I turn to see Tom standing in the hallway, with a couple of towels and his gym bag.

“Don’t hide in here, cowgirl,” he says softly, and I chew on the inside of my cheek.

He ambles in slowly, and sinks down to sit on the bed next to me.

“When you first discovered I was a centaur, you had come to the forest pool for a night swim.”

I remember, and smile. I’d felt like such a dunce for disturbing him, but he’d been so sweet.

“Hey,” he nudges into me, his shoulder presses against mine. “I’ve got towels.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

### 

He gave me a piggy back most of the way to the pool. The clear air and mystery of night-time in the countryside seemed to help me forget about the future, and just be right here, right now.

On this wonderful man’s back, sneaking out to swim outdoors at night, under the stars.

 “Here we go, cowgirl,” he eases me down onto my feet and we edge towards the pool.

“Are there… fish?” I poke the toe of my boot into the water.

“No,” Tom answers, shrugging out of his jacket.

“Is it deep?”

“Nah, nope,” he bends over and starts untying the buckles on his boots.

I crouch down. “Is it cold?” I let my fingers dangle in the water. It feels kind of lukewarm, like the temperature below how I’d like it in the shower. What some people might call ‘refreshing’.

“It’s a perfectly fine temperature for outdoor swimming,” I turn my head to glance at Tom, who is undoing the last of his shirt buttons.

“Don’t tell me you’re changing your mind, cowgirl,” he mumbles as he undoes the buckle of his belt, winding the belt out from the waistband loops.

He’s just standing in his jeans, a white v-neck tee shirt, barefoot. He looks delicious.

“Uh… um, no, no I still want to do this. I might never get the chance again,” I stand, and follow Tom’s lead - taking off my heavier outer clothing and boots until I’m in my jeans and vest.

“Just remember, I have towels, we have very hot showers back at the ranch, along with tea, and unlimited cuddles from me,” Tom reassures me as he sets foot into the pool. The water level rises slowly up as he wades further in, and once it is up to his torso, he springs forward and starts doing the front crawl.

I stand at the edge, and gingerly edge in, not wanting to be left behind. I can feel soil between my toes, and my jeans are sticking to me.

The water is half way up my thighs when Tom swims towards me, standing up when he reaches me.

“Not too cold, is it?” he runs his fingertips along my exposed shoulder, and I shiver in pleasure.

“I’m just getting used to it,” I answer truthfully. I’m sure once I edge in so the water’s at my chest I’ll be able to swim, too.

“Let me help you get used to it,” Tom murmurs, and leans in, nuzzling his head in the crook of my neck. I squeal, reflexively edging back a little as the cold wet of his hair surprises me, and stumble back, taking Tom down with me, until we’re both splashing in the water.

“Oh my god!” I call out, my body slowly acclimatising to the water. Tom chuckles next to me, and I feel his fingers interlock with mine under the water reassuringly.

“Let’s get moving. That’ll help warm you up.” Tom gives my hand a squeeze, then sets off, gliding smoothly through the water. I follow him, slowly, keeping my head above water to take in the scenery.

I catch up with Tom, who is now floating on his back.

“Ever floated in the middle of a forest while looking up at the stars?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know if I’m any good at floating.”

“No problem,” he shifts, and stands up, the water coming to his chest. He walks over to the edge of the pool, and sits down, the water still lapping at his chest, and leans back against the muddy bank.

“Take a seat,” he eyes me, and I choose to sit next to him, rather than sit between his legs.

I gaze up, past the dark silhouettes of tree tops, to the scattered stars above. It’s truly beautiful.

“Despite having gazed at these stars many times, I honestly couldn’t tell you which one is Orion, or which one is a planet…,” Tom talks quietly next to me. “But I do know that the same stars that shine on us here, now, will shine on you wherever you go, cowgirl.”

I sigh, and look down, bringing my knees up. The wet denim uncomfortably pulls against my skin.

“And you, cowboy,” I reply, readying myself to get out.

Tom turns to face me and reaches a hand to my cheek.

“I can’t say that I love you,” he whispers, his eyes boring into mine. “But I know that there’s a high chance I could say it, one day.”

I open my lips to speak, but nothing comes out.

Tom leans in, his eyelids fluttering gently shut, and angles his head to kiss me.

I stroke my fingers along his wet cheek as his lips move next to mine, his tongue playfully running along the edge of my tongue. I moan into him, my arms wrapping around his neck, and I give as much of myself as I can to him in this one kiss. No holding back.

Soon I find tears trickling down my cheeks. I try to ignore them, try to focus on getting my fill of Tom before… before…

“Alice, you’re covered in goosebumps,” Tom murmurs against my lips, kissing me briefly once, then wraps his arm around me as he helps me get up. He leads me to his gym bag and towels at the side of the pool.

He wraps me up in a large white towel, and squeezes me to him. I let my head relax on his shoulder as his hands smooth circles on my back, warming me up. I then notice how damp and cool his wet tee shirt is under my cheek, and urge him to get dry too.

We hurriedly stumble back to the Ranch by the light of Tom’s torch. Sheba languidly sniffed us as we entered the hallway, thoroughly unimpressed by our scent of pond, and pottered back to her basket in the living area.

Hand in hand we went up the stairs, trying to be quiet so as not to wake anyone, and Tom lead me into his bedroom.

I’d never seen or entered it before.

Tom set his gym bag and the towels on the floor, and turned on the bedside lamp, basking everything in a golden glow.

The room was a little larger than the one I’d been staying in, and more homely, with books and photo frames and a Navajo-style rug at the foot of the bed. There was also a door, slightly ajar that led through to an en suite bathroom.

“Let’s get you some fresh towels,” Tom says quietly, and crosses the room to the bathroom, switching on the light and fumbling about. He reappears with a couple of white towels, which he sets on the bed.

“As I mentioned before, tonight you get the best bed of the house, along with a personal man servant.”

I burst out laughing, and have to cover my mouth with my hand, hoping any of the other staff haven’t heard me.

“This bonus package also includes post-swim snacks and hot drinks. Is there anything in particular madam would like?”

I shake my head with a smile, and shrug out of my jacket. “Surprise me.”

“Very good, ma’am,” Tom nods, and heads towards the bedroom door. “Hop in the shower.”

________________________

It took a while to get out of the shower, as the heat was so good after being in the chilly pool. The homemade essential oil bath soaps were also heavenly to use, and I felt almost pampered by the end of the shower.

Mummified in fluffy towels, carrying my gross wet clothes, I stepped out of the en suite into Tom’s bedroom. He wasn’t there, so I padded out into hallway and across to my room, to get changed into my jammies and slipper socks. I pulled on my hoodie for extra warmth, then headed downstairs, carrying my wet clothes.

In the kitchen Tom was pouring hot water into a cup, stirring it with a teaspoon. A tray, laden with two plates of beans on toast, sat on the kitchen counter nearby.

“If you pop those in the drier they’ll be ready in the morning,” Tom nods at the machine in the corner, and I shove my wet clothes in.

“Now…,” I hear him begin, and walk over to him. He’s holding the tray.

“Let’s get you back upstairs. This evening is far from over.”

_____________________________________________

It’s not til we’re sitting cross-legged opposite each other on his bed, the food tray between us, that I realise Tom has changed clothes. He’s now in a blue round-neck tee shirt and black cotton tracksuit bottoms.

“Did you shower while I showered?” I raise an eyebrow.

“I did indeed. I’m a speedy boy,” he tears at a piece of toast with his knife and fork, scooping beans up onto it, and happily munches.

I smile, sipping my tea. “Thank you. For all of this. For taking me out tonight. And earlier, at the park. And for all this - the food, looking after me,…”

“Not. At. All,” he enunciates each word, and licks his lips. “It’s been an absolute treat for me. Thank you for not running away.”

“Why would I run away?” I furrow my brow, trying to read his expression.

“Well, the whole centaur thing… not exactly on most girls lists of desired qualities in a man…,” he responds quietly and lifts his tea cup from the tray.

I look up briefly at the ceiling. I’d all but forgotten about that.

I scoot around carefully to sit next to him, making sure the tray doesn’t overturn.

“Oi,” I poke him in the ribs, and he splutters a little on his tea. He looks incredulously at me over the rim of his cup.

“That’s a non-issue. Actually, no, fuck that. Being a centaur is on the list of reasons why you are desirable. It’s a bonus.”

“Hmmm,” Tom says with doubt, and sets his cup back on the tray.

“It’s like you’re this amazing guy, anyway, with this bonus feature of sometimes being part-unicorn.”

He chuckles. “You’ve promoted me from part-horse to part-unicorn?”

“Unicorns are more magical than horses,” I reason, “so yes.”

Tom silently takes the food tray and sets it down on the bedside table.

“You are going the right way about getting the biggest hug of your life, young lady,” Tom murmurs with fake menace, before crawling over to me and gently easing me down onto my back.

I can’t stop smiling as he relaxes down on top of me, keeping his weight balanced, and snuggles close, hands caressing my shoulders, his head resting next to mine. I wrap my arms around his back, and give him a gentle squeeze.

**TOM’S POV**

I didn’t want to let go.

“Cowgirl…?” I ask, nestling my nose into her damp hair. “You’re very welcome to sleep here tonight. I daresay it’s the best bed in the building.”

She sighs softly in my arms, and I can feel her fingers trace shapeless forms on my back as she thinks, then her fingers still, and her body tenses.

“Do you mean… like…? … umm… I’m not ready to, err…,” she swallows, and starts to shift under me, her hands falling from my back.

“No, no Alice I didn’t mean sleep together, as in, ‘sleep together’,” I shift to lean up on my elbows, to be able to look better at her. A small frown has formed across her eyebrows. I want to kiss the bridge of her nose, but I resist.

“I mean, well..,” I look away, “I’d be happy to lie next to you. Of course. But, I’ll take your room if you want to sleep alone in here. I just wanted to offer you my bed.”

She looks quizzically up at me, not sure whether to believe me or not.

“This bed has got five pillows, two more than the one in the guest room. And you’ll have your own en-suite bathroom. And this bed is a King size, I think the one you’ve been using is a Queen…,”

A wry smile forms on her lips and suddenly she places her hand on my cheek, before leaning up to kiss me.

Mmmm. Wasn’t expecting that.

Her soft kisses shush me, and her hands press on my shoulders, to guide us back down to rest on the bed as we kiss.  
“I want to feel close to you,” I whisper as our lips part, and she turns her head away with a frustrated mewl.

“I do too,” she closes her eyes as her breathing calms down. “But I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

“I know, I know,” I kiss her cheek, all but willing her to not put a wall between us.

“It’s going to be tough enough saying goodbye as it is, I can’t get closer to you,” she dips her head, avoiding eye contact, and I hold her close, fearing she may run away.

It’s funny, I didn’t realise until now how much I truly want her, and how difficult it is to not be close to her.

“Please stay,” I find myself quietly repeating like a mantra, unsure whether I’m asking her to stay right now for tonight, or to stay indefinitely and not go to London.

Her body tenses, and I feel her head shifting, turning next to mine. Sensing her pulling away, I try one more time.

“All I’ll do is hold you. Please stay.”

**OC’s POV**

I realised that there would never be another moment like this again. I’d never be lying in Tom’s arms, in his bed, again. Very unlikely I’d be back at the Ranch - not for a good while if I decided to visit again, at least. Whichever way things went, I’d still be on a flight back to London in the morning. So I had two options - spend the night alone in bed dreading it, or enjoying my final night in the countryside with the best cuddles of my life from a cowboy.

I gave in.

Even though my senses were screaming at me to hightail it out of Tom’s bed and firmly shut myself away in my guest room, I damn well stayed.

Tom gallantly helped me under the covers with him, and then proceeded to wrap his long limbs around me, snuggling his face next to mine.

I reached up and pet his hair, making him hum happily, the vibrations going through my body.

“I’m guessing you haven’t had a hug like this for a while,” I whisper tentatively, and he shifts in my arms.

“Sheba gives good hugs, but she smells a bit funny.”

We chuckle in the darkness.

I kiss his temple, and relax into his warmth. The sound of his breathing is so soothing.

“I could get used to this, cowgirl,” he mumbles, warm breath floating across my neck. I can’t help but smile, and drift asleep.

 


End file.
